If an Autobot do NOT do the following 5 Timelines
by hummergrey
Summary: What if Starscream began messing with the timelines? Trying to change the known world to allow him to rule? Alter one fact and everything becomes undone and yet rules and people exist in each timeline. Come see all that can be. NEXT: Optimus selling soda?
1. Chapter 1 Retrieving a Prime's Spark

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Welcome to _**If An Autobot do NOT do the Following 5**_.

PLEASE SET **ADD STORY TO** **STORY ALERT** TO KEEP UP WITH FUTURE UPDATES.

Rules and story in the future their time. Ramiel, Ironhide and Chromia's sparkling is now talking and Annabelle is a seventeen-year-old teenager. Intense story arc and read carefully as all the clues and data are in it. I know, bits and pieces that could be their own fic but are presented here for now. Guessing on what the future holds. Onward to what could be.

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_457. Do not underestimate the danger a sparkling or youngling can get into in with his or her innocence and exploring nature. _

"Ramiel Starchaser Hide!" a femme's voice growled, as her optics blazed almost purple. Her silver faceplate turned up at the hidden cubbyhole, sensors clearly reading the two small beings hiding in the hollow spot. The metal walls of the ark lower deck ended, still in construction as the stonewalls were carved out with lasers. Off limits to the younglings, they had snuck there to explore and try to forget where their fathers were.

Up above, Annabelle winked at her best friend while he ducked his head, shuttering his optics. "Full name means trouble," she whispered, climbing across the rough stone down to the wall edge.

* I am in for it now * texted across her vision glasses. A gift from Wheeljack and Perceptor, they acted like normal sunglasses, darkening automatically in response to light while hiding their true purpose. A heads up digital display of infinite power and reach. Chromia reached up, snagging the girl then waited as the little protoform slid into view, tiny hands trying to grasp the wall edge before falling into strong dark blue armored hands.

Annabelle's visor cleared as Chromia walked alongside but carried her sparkling. 'Own and wear all the power and tech of a Transformer without it being implanted in me. Not that I haven't asked for it enough times,' the young teen heavy sighed, drawing a look from her Autobot companions. 'Other teenagers ask to stay out late or date, I ask to be more bot than human and still get told no. Being a teenager sucks major. '

Chromia moved slowly but steady, recovering from her battle wounds even as the sparkling essence continued forming in her holding chamber.

'Not that I ever have to worry about carrying a life essence keeping me from battle. Who didn't give me the talk, each in their own way. Only Ironhide seems to understand. When I say I have no interest in boys I mean no interest. Zip, nana, nothing, not a nano click,' the seventeen-year-old teenager groused mentally. 'Ratchet gave me enough information for a lifetime then monitored my every breath to ensure I was developing 'normally.' Bumblebee and several others offered to listen if I needed to confide then the twins, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker played bodyguard for a while. Any human male even came near me and they had a 'talk' with him consisting of red optics glares and energon swords dropping out of subspace, very close to said human male.'

She bit her lower lip, gleefully remembering the footage of several of those conversations. 'Optimus was too busy being Prime, but receiving reports I know. The femmes shared their experiences, information I thought I wanted to know but not really,' she sighed. 'Makes me want that intimate knowing experience not the physical my human form is limited to. How can I love someone I can never feel when we are apart, never know their true essence or cannot survive past their death? Limited to physical snatch and grab and drooling? Yeech.' Annabelle's expression showed her sadness for a moment but it was enough.

Chromia stopped, scanning the teenager before asking, "What's wrong youngling?" Her blue optics spun idly as she knelt down towards the only human she treasured as her own Ram.

"I miss my dad. Do you really think the plan will work?" she temporized.

"Has to. Been in worse with fewer and we still survive," The pride in her spark mate and the others was evident in her tone.

**Story Arc - To retrieve the spark of a Prime**

"This is bad!" Will Lennox muttered and ducking down as more of the metal ceiling plates shook and buckled. The silver metal dust floated down to mix with his silver hair. "This is taking too long!" The Cybertronian tunnel was proving more of an obstacle than they had anticipated even as their friends moved in on the Decepticon command post on the metal planet's surface.

Running, dodging, he and the Witwicky's struggled to keep their balance. The access tunnel was small by Cybertron standards, a bare twelve feet high and only about fifteen feet wide. Abandoned for warfare and forgotten as resources dwindled, it had decayed and filled with its own crumbling debris around abandoned equipment. Unstable, lit by only the high power lamps the humans carried, it was still their best bet. A large resounding crack sounded, instantly all three humans looked up then dove for the sidewalls. More of the ceiling collapsed, the dust hazing over their lights.

"Mikey!" Sam yelled then coughed, trying to see over the debris for his wife. His deep man's voice carried easily.

"Here!" she answered back, climbing over a pile of slagged metal further ahead. She wiped at the dust by her eyes, the two inch raised cheek scar prominent against her flushed face. "We have to keep going. The power connection is just ahead." Her thin muscular body cleared the debris in a jump as she advanced. Long black hair swung in a tightly wrapped ponytail as the men followed it like a waving beacon. Communications from the battle overhead filtered in through their headsets.

"_Cons are coming out both entrances, infiltration teams stand by. We'll hold them here_," Epps announced.

_"Team one ready at first junction main doors,"_ Jazz and Amiodarone answered.

"_Team two hidden and waiting by the control room_," Mirage and Hound answered.

"_Retrieval team ready_," Ratchet reported his and Moonracer's status.

"_Spacebridge is under our control but not for long_," Bumblebee reported, his British tone strange to Sam's ears even after hearing it for years. The young scout still preferred music to communicate but the mission was too important and he stuck to language.

"_Taking heavy fire, pinned down. Need help here_," Cliffjumper called for assistance.

"_Rolling now_," Sideswipe answered, the excited hunting tone in his vocals. His twin's growling agreement in the background.

Reaching a turn in the tunnel, the three humans slid to a stop, double-checking their location on the portable map sensor. "This is the wall," Will confirmed as they backed up, he and Sam pulling blasters off their back straps.

Mikeala's right arm shifted into her blaster, the hand and fingers transforming away as the main barrel formed. She grinned, feeling the sheer power conveying through her system as it charged. 'Spent all my time worrying about Sam being the one killed or injured and Soundwave targets me. Sam is a human Prime and off limits to his plans but not beyond hurting him through me. Fires to cripple not kill. Ahh,' she continued to grin, recalling the battle two years later after that attack when she had appeared right in front of Soundwave, her right arm transforming and firing at his spark chamber. 'Did not get through the armor but the surprised look in his optics was priceless.' The right side of her body began hurting, feeling as though it was burning again as the weapon reached full power. Focusing, she mentally undid the safeties, letting the red beam shoot out, melting through the metal where the wall met the floor and rising in a crimson arc.

Sam concentrated, firing his hand held blaster same time as the others to burn through. 'We have to do this. I still cannot believe what happened.' Memories flashed through of the battle, the odd flash of light as the Decepticon seeker Thundercracker had appeared behind Prime, dropping the backpack device onto Prime before Ironhide's blast shot the seeker down. The flash, the scream in Sam's mind as the center of Optimus chest disappeared, his lifeless chassis falling forward as his optics went dark. The screams of the Autobots as he was gone and beyond their reach.

'I don't know what was worse, that moment or realizing the device stole Optimus spark intact back to Cybertron as a prize. Elita and I could not make the others listen to us fast enough that his essence was online, trapped and disembodied. Reaching for us through the ancient Primes.' His thoughts shifted back to present time.

"Only Starscream would plan that with Megatron in stasis under Autobot control, making your enemy a displayed prize instead of bargaining," Sam muttered, releasing the blaster trigger as the hole completed, the cut metal shape falling over with a metallic clang.

Mikeala leaned in, spraying the container of liquid freezing agent to cool the hot metal edges. The waves of heat drove them back even as her nannites counteracted the intense heat. Chucking the empty can, she nodded, hopping though and down to the floor on the other side. No enemy fire appeared nor heavy treads of approaching enemies' mechs or alarms sounded. The floor was smooth, the area finished and clear of debris. Running, they cleared the first corners then reached the power connections. In under a minute, the charges were set and they retreated for the rusty tunnel again.

"Phase two is a go, repeat phase two is a go," Will broadcasted over their encrypted lines.

"That will teach them to not pay their power bill," Mikeala quipped, reforming her hand and arm to its flesh looking counterpart. The explosion shook their entire area, throwing them off their feet. Rolling, they sprang up, years of combat training and fighting for their lives in battles against Decepticons automatically kicking in.

"Teams go! Get that spark back!" Will yelled.

Six minutes of radio silence as they ran, waiting to hear. Explosions and static filled the line then "Got Prime and on the move. Need cover," Ratchet signaled, alarms in his area nearly blaring out his voice.

"Status?" Bumblebee asked the question they all needed to know.

"Lost a little weight but Optimus is fiery as ever," Moonracer replied.

"Ride is ready, first passengers already on their way." Bumblebee said, the distinct sounds of a closing spacebridge behind his voice.

"All units, bug out, bug out. Christmas present delivered. Repeat, Christmas present is delivered and unwrapping," Epps smugly reported.

Inside the Decepticon command center, Supreme Commander of all Cybertron and Master Ruler of the Decepticons glared at his smashed throne chair, the darkened space at the top where the orb had held Optimus spark. The fried chassis of two smaller lifeless Decepticons ignored as he moved forward, unable to believe a raid had stolen his one great prize.

"They will pay for this!" the mech screamed high pitch, his red optics blazing with hate. The doors behind him hissed open and Starscream turned; faceplates contorting as his arm rose to blast whichever unfortunate under bot disturbed him at that moment.

"I'm home," Megatron growled. The silver mech's optics rotated as he took in the disheveled control room, the battle char marks and Starscream backing up, his lip plates moving without making a sound.

"No rescue attempt, no tracking where I was frozen in stasis, and the Autobots have retrieved their leader. You fail me yet again," the Decepticon leader intoned as the door slid shut behind him, cutting off the only escape route.


	2. Chapter 2 Lost keys and ice cream

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews and remember to set _"Story alert"_ on the lower left to keep up with updates. They will be sporadic on this version. First two chapters are a darker _what if future time line _that would have made more sense with last chapter and this one together. Alas, life mangled the writing urge and time buried it.

As always, I do not own Transformers in any shape, size or form. Anyone wanting to expand on plot bunnies herein feel free to e-mail me for additional help or suggestions. Links to inspired stories by other authors are in my profile. No Transformers were hurt in the writing of this chapter.

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**Fight for the Future (part 2)**

The Operations center in the Ark mountain base flowed with life both mechanical and human. The orange painted metal walls absorbed none of their chatter or the distinctly metal sounding movements of their gears and parts. The Autobots updated their battle reports while monitoring Prime's recovery under Ratchet's care.

At the center conference table, Bumblebee angled around Ironhide's black armored chassis to grab a schematic for his human family with an armored yellow hand from the giant sized table. "Thanks big guy," Sam accepted it gratefully, laying it down on their human size table to highlight areas.

"I still process this is a weak spot," Mikeala circled the narrow canyon on the far east of the rocky area. "Ravage or Rumble would fit between the sensors undetected. I did last test." She twirled the pencil super speed in her mechanized fingers as she thought.

"They lack your beauty to dazzle those sensors," Bumblebee's English accent no longer seemed strange to them as he sat on the floor by them.

"I saw her first in the second grade and she is still my girl," Sam stated firmly, placing an arm around his wife being careful to not entangle her long dark hair.

"Mine too or at least my parts," the scout teased back transforming his fingers and hand to his war cannon. He pointed out silver welds.

"How long are you going to ride that repair?" Sam quipped.

"Ahem, may I have your attention please," Preceptor's scholarly vocal interrupted them. The red and blue tall mech stood behind them, one black fist curled tight. His shoulder concussion rifle cast a thin shadow across the map.

"If you remember not everyone here shares your extensive scientific vocabulary," Mikeala exchanged a knowing look with her husband. His hazel eyes met her blue ones before rolling upward again.

"Contemplating the parallel time paradox I have discovered requires a base minimum of knowledge. Specifically time travel with time dilation based on velocity in the theory of special relativity as exemplified by the twin paradox, as well as gravitational time dilation in the theory of general relativity. Additionally, David Lewis' analysis of compossibility and logical paradoxes. " He stopped, realizing all eyes and optics were on him and many were unfocused or blank. His closed hand opened revealing multi colored human keys, "Focus point viewed against the context of pertinent facts relating to this situational factor."

Mikeala spoke first, her enhanced system processing faster than her husband's mind. "Focus point as in important? Those are my car keys, or were. Sam painted them yellow and black as a prank and the others found Bee shaped charms and beads to add to them. I lost them years ago, before we were even married."

"They were encased in the throne below Optimus' spark. Significance?" the scientist asked, trying to get them back thinking.

"Trophy of their ability to sneak onto the old Nest base and leave undetected?" Bumblebee guessed.

"You misunderstand," Perceptor corrected, transforming to his giant size microscope mode. "See these radiant particles?" A holographic image displayed to the side. The image sparkled with black and purple floating dots across the molecular structure of the keys. "A portal from now was opened backwards into the past to acquire them, altering the normal flow of events."

"Altered how?" Sam echoed, wrapping one arm around his wife's waist.

"Specifics unknown. Please describe the details of their disappearance."

"The day they went missing was the Quasar lab explosion," Ironhide rumbled, his optics altering to almost purple in anger and pain.

"I do remember," Mikeala said. "I was looking for my keys to drive home and the lab blew. Annabelle was caught in the blast field."

"She survived but we lost Bluestreak and Mirage," Jazz's blue visor dimmed nearly grey as he grieved for his friends.

"Wait a minute," Sam interrupted. "How do the keys factor in?"

"Multiple probabilities," Perceptor began transforming back to his bi pedal mode. The long scope transferred to his shoulder, the glass plates rotating out to allow the energy weapon charges to rotate in. "Mikeala could have offered a ride to Annabelle keeping her clear, or stopped to talk to the others, delaying their access to that area or changed the sequence of current time in ways we could not imagine."

"Can we return the keys?" Bumblebee asked what they were all wondering.

"Yes to restore the time flow but our world as it exists will end. The time flow will resume with our lives then, for better or worse," he admitted.

Silence filled the room as they contemplated a future worse than theirs. Ironhide shuttered his optics, imagining a normal Annabelle growing through her childhood without pain and surgeries. 'Hearing her laugh and chatter on would be a joy instead of the limited speech she endures,' he processed.

Sam wrapped both arms around his wife, breathing in her scent while trying to remember only her perfume and not the present tang of metal. No matter how many times he heard it was in his mind and not real, he felt the alienness of her implants separating them. None of their body language was lost on the youngest scout as he watched.

"My vote is to return them. Anybot disagree?" he asked. There were none. Preceptor's fingers closed over the keys before he turned and left for his lab.

**May 5****th****, 2012 – NEST Base**

**Diego Garcia Island**

The keys shimmered in to fall onto the desk top, the faintest pop sound betraying the time crossing event. Mikeala turned at the sound, spotting the yellow and black bumblebee colors. Her long black hair swirled as she moved forward. "Here they are. Strange, I swore I looked there a minute ago. Oh well," she shrugged, itching at the sudden sensation down her arm and side. "Owww. Need bug spray around here. Dang mosquitoes." Ambling out of her personal guest quarters, she noticed Annabelle sitting under the palm tree by the main doors.

"Are we in the mood for ice cream?" she asked the young girl while pocketing her keys.

"Yes yes yes! Can we get fudge caramel ripple with extra cherries and nuts? My throat feels funny and I know ice cream would make it all better please?" She asked breathlessly, dropping her datapad onto the ground by her pink backpack.

"Sure, let's go. I have time to spare," the young woman gestured for her to lead the way. Her bubbling chatter brought a smile from even the most hardened soldier as they moved across the base towards the commissary. Alien sensors detected their traces as both mechs strode around the corner.

Bluestreak noticed the backpack and datapad first, his targeting enhanced optics locking in on the unique shapes. "Annabelle knows better and I know that the others including her parental mech have spoken with her leaving her belongings, especially a datapad, with our technology accessible to others. She can quote the treaty and the rules as though Prowl was her guardian and not Ironhide. I have always wondered why him. Bumblebee with Sam made sense, as he is a mini bot and scout with a hot car alt mode for a young man. Why such a powerful truck alt mode for a little girl? She is small and her old child seat needed some room but not that big a cab. Only Optimus interior sleeper cab is larger."

Mirage glanced at his friend, considering going invisible and sneaking off with the backpack to leave him talking to the empty air. Venting in exasperation, he pointed towards the commissary. "Residual energy patterns indicate they went that way," his vocal mixing with Bluestreak's still running monologue.

"I wonder if ice cream tastes like aged energon? I remember that and I know you remember Mirage. My family use to own the energon factory on the main station base at Praxus. I remember touring the factory with my parental femme and asking about the vats and how did they discover the cube shape was the best for storage and dispensing when we need refueling?" Bluestreak continued all the way to the human sized building. Both girls walked out at that moment, ice cream cones clutched firmly in their hands.

Less than a second of supersonic screaming alarms gave them warning. Two sets of blue optics snapped towards Wheeljack's lab as battle computers engaged. Energon sped through their lines allowing movement faster than human thought. Automatically they cupped their armored hands around the girls, shielding them instead of their own systems.

The massive blast threw debris straight up as billowing smoke and fire rose into the sky. They watched as the upper reinforced walls melted and ran, red molten rebar flowing down like slow moving lava over white concrete. Their optics shuttered rapidly as building debris rained down among shredded pieces of palm trees.

"Stay here," Mirage ordered and hesitated long enough to see the girls obeyed. Coughing and blinking themselves, they ran back inside the building as the dropped ice cream began melting on the doormat. Both Autobots transformed down into their alt modes racing towards the fire.

:: Autobot teams to the lab, ascertain limits safe for human emergency crews to approach. Wheeljack report:: Optimus ordered, shifting from mech to Prime and Commander as he ran their direction.

The air shifted as the time line changed and locked.

Optimus slid to a stop, tearing up concrete as his huge feet pads dug in. He felt the matrix under his chest plates humming in approval but receiving no direct link. He never vented hard, optics dimming as his Prime link to the two mechs failed, feeling Mirage and Bluestreak's sudden offlining.

Wheeljack never grieved for them, blaming himself over not monitoring the lab better and becoming dangerously cross-looped in his processing. Emergency crews helped the Transformers douse the fire, paying up bets on who would cause their next call out. Annabelle watched them laughing and talking with Mikeala and Sam instead of being pulled out from under the broken palm tree and crumbled building edge, her face and throat damaged.

Optimus, Prowl and Ratchet never had to restrain and stasis lock Wheeljack when his processor glitched. They never debated and agonized on whether to reprogram him.

On that day instead, Prowl noticed the pattern to the Decepticon strikes and arranged a battle plan. Optimus led the counter defenses, using Wheeljack's new gun that fused to his hand, allowing Megatron to escape instead of falling before his normal Ion rifle. Ratchet removed Optimus hand with the still fused rifle handle, grumbling about inventions and power limits instead of directing the emergency surgery to repair Mikeala as she lay dying with a missing arm and side damage from Soundwave's blast.

Mikeala got romantic with Sam over the next weeks, marrying and enjoying their honeymoon to conceive their daughter instead of fighting for her life in critical care.

Megatron returned to the Decepticon base for repairs, keeping his dominance over the Decepticons instead of Starscream assuming his command and leading them. His plan to take Optimus' spark as a trophy of his command never crossed his processor, too busy planning ways to overthrow Megatron and grab Decepticon command for himself.

_And the time flow continued…normally..._


	3. Chapter 3 Starscream's attempts

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. More "what if" future fun courtesy of everyone's favorite schemer and power grabber. In the movie verse, Starscream is pure silver and very angular and stocky. In G1 cartoon, he was slim with silver, red and blue markings and very distinctive shapes across his form.

Updates to follow more quickly as I am now off vacation and back to writing on all my fics. A quick update to get the action moving.

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Starscream flung the glass globe against the lab's metal wall, red optics narrowing and watching with satisfaction as it shattered with the force. "This is ridiculous!" he spat out, blue armored hands clenched into fists. "I am the Air Commander, deadliest of the Seekers, and best graduate of the Cybertron war academy!" His blazing optics focused on the ever-growing pile of shattered glass across the floor and his work area. "Arrggh, I cannot be defeated!" he ground out, lowering his grey helm into his hands.

"And this form!" He raised his helm to glare at his own reflection on the smooth wall. "Wings tilted back like a metal butterfly, blue and red markings? How horrible. I look like Prime sparked me," the jet shuddered. "I am a brilliant scientist, I should lead not Megatron. He is too weak to defeat Prime. This is the galactic payback for my mistakes, I know it. I am all for blending in within each timeline but this form! It is beyond humiliating for any of my existences to endure. This is..."

The door to his lab slid open followed by a hard vent and curse. "What the slag!"

"How dare you enter my lab unannounced!" He spun, stumbling on his solid feet instead of his customary feet pads.

"You scheduled this meeting nine joors ago to discuss aerial combat maneuvers," Thundercracker reminded. The tall blue seeker looked his leader up and down with a frown on his lip plates.

"I don't know what your condition is, but I bet it's got a long name that is hard to pronounce Screamer." Skywarp's tone sounded thoughtful before he began snickering openly.

"As leader of this trine I deserve respect," Starscream crossed his metal arms, careful to keep the arm locked ray blasters from entangling on each other.

"And we deserve warning to bring our special glasses. Oh! I bet you look real dangerous that way," Thundercracker clapped his black armored hands together. The others turned to focus their optics on him. "The red and blue markings? We need to use those special glasses and you appear three dimensional. I've seen it advertised for the humans' as the latest technological thing."

"Unlike your processor upgrades for intelligence," Starscream sarcastically stated, rubbing at the back of his helm to ease a neuron ache.

"How about a calendar upgrade? It's June not October for Halloween."

"An alternate trans scan to fool the humans, " Starscream lied.

"Why bother? The Fallen announced our existence to the world even if the humans have covered it up. NEST is going global and we fly openly. Matter of time before they know we are real."

"The announcement would have been better in three D TV," Skywarp commented.

"Get out!" Starscream ordered, accidentally releasing a blast as his arm snapped out to point. The red flash hit the wall, leaving a char mark without damage. Both seekers hesitated, waiting for defensive system to recognize and engage. Nothing happened and they continued to stare at each other. "OUT!"

Quietly, both seekers backed out of the lab then exchanged a look as the lab doors slid shut and locked.

"Do you ever worry about him?" Thundercracker

"Nope. That's Megatron's problem. His history of deceit and betrayal is legend. No tips off my wings if he's never blasted Starscream to scrap," Skywarp tilted his wings up and down in the seeker sign of not caring.

"What if he takes over?" Both arms rotated out, palms upward to rise slowly in the seeker movement of command respect.

"Same thing as always. Attack, blast whatever moves too slow to escape. Then the Autobots show and we retreat same as under Megatron," Thundercracker grunted.

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Retreating? Do we do anything else?" His optics spun tighter with his irritation.

"I meant blasting slow things like humans?"

"Nah. They make the funniest sounds when hurt."

"You are one sick 'Con Thundercracker," the tall blue seeker said.

"Oh, there's Soundwave leaving! Going to refill his lever grease with sticky glue and wait until he tries to eject the cassettes out," he said, disappearing away in a teleportation flash and leaving his trine mate staring at empty air.

Inside the lab Starscream projected his holographic notes onto the wall. "Timeline alteration attempt #3. Prevent Orion Pax from becoming Optimus Prime. My sniper shot finished what Megatron could not during the energon cube raid. Instead of Orion injured and taken to Alpha Trio to receive the military upgrades and Matrix of Leadership, he offlined. However, his friend Dion became Magnus Prime instead of Ultra Magnus. As Prime, he took Megatron's spark early in the war. Optimus hesitated because they were brothers allowing Megatron to escape and Magnus did not. His white form with Optimus' build was like seeing his ghost. Worse was seeing a Cybertron ruled by the Magnus clan of Autobots and the Decepticons regulated to a myth. Under his leadership, Cybertron continued boring, plain and never exploring the galaxy. Hence, no human contact or Nebulans or Paradron or an existence worth enduring." The jet's wings angled from his chassis in frustration.

"Timeline alteration attempt #4. Switch Megatron and Orion at the Energon Revival Festival mid lunar pass. The Fallen noticed the strength of his spark and corrupted his very coding. Orion blasted Megatron while they were still in their fourth shell then made it look like a tragic accident. The same way he offlined Alpha Trion and countless others who questioned his choices. Choose the name Optitron." Red optics closed in pain as Starscream remembered the shattered, dead melted world that had been Cybertron.

"Optitron's power knew no limits until he conquered everything. Took what left of our race and moved onto other inhabited worlds, enslaving them into oblivion for his galactic war fleet. I could not undo that time alteration quick enough." The holographic notes and wall images changed again.

"Timeline alteration #5, steal the Matrix of Leadership for myself the day it was to be transferred from Alpha Trion's care." The seeker Commander wiggled his fingers, looking down at the metal of his right hand. His memory core replayed the flare of light and searing pain before he locked that memory routine down. "Orion survived to become Optimus Prime, though slower and dumber. Still a problem. The Matrix refused to submit to me and melted my entire hand off. It still found its way to Optimus vorns later, continuing the war on Cybertron, no space exploration but no advance on either side. One-half of the world Decepticon, one-half Autobot and neither cross the centerline of stalemate. Only fun was seeing Arcee as Prime's mate instead of Elita One and Elita One with Megatron."

"Speaking of femmes, which led me to timeline alteration attempt #6, delaying the launch of our ship the Nemesis. The Autobot Ark launched unhindered with the femmes joining the mission. The multiple joors head start allowed the Autobots to blast through the asteroid field and escape clear. The lack of a Decepticon attack never created the events to crash the Ark on earth. Both ships continued their chase until ensnared in a black hole gravity well. Cybertron continued on decaying until we became a dying race."

::Megatron to Starscream, report!:: Megatron's deeper voice blasted across the internal channel.

::Report on what oh fearless leader?:: Starscream snapped back automatically.

::Our energon supplies. You were supposed to be counting them and suggesting a new plan to increase them!::Megatron

::Energon storage at 85% capacity:: Starscream flipped the report digitally to the command deck. Silence then the abrupt end of the comm line allowed him to return to his work.

"Hmm, what if I take Optimus Prime out of the quotient? Manipulate other events? A sequence to prevent the Ark from being built or sent out? Tamper with the Allspark perhaps instead of the Matrix? Timeline alteration attempt #7 and let's see what happens.

_To be continued..._

_NEXT: The earth knows of the Transformers and embraces them, at least in their marketing attempts. _


	4. Chapter 4 The Decepticons fan club

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Yeah! I was totally in a writing mood tonight! Thanks to a reader review on my If an Autobot 2 that suggested the fast food names.

What if there had been a news camera crew in Mission City to reveal the Transformers to the world as the battle for the Allspark happened? Blew a tire and while stopped to change it, saw a jet fly low over the city to fire on the next street over? Let's find out.

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_# 454 Do not agree to a course of action then decide the path is too arduous or not rewarding enough. Autobots fight for the causes that are right, not easy. _

Samuel James Witwicky, ambassador to the earth for the Autobot forces, glanced out the darkened car windows and sighed. The awkward teen had grown into a young man use to public appearances and speaking before world leaders for his alien friends. His clothes were clean and plain, a far cry from his former customary jeans and rocker t-shirts. He sighed again.

"Sam? Is there something wrong?" the vocal sounded softly from the dash behind the steering wheel.

He twitched at the sound of Bumblebee's voice. Not because of the British accent, as it no longer surprised him, but the dry teasing tone of his guardian. A quick glance confirmed the soft vocals had not woken Mikeala as she lay sleeping in the passenger seat. "Not wrong exactly," the young man fidgeted in his seat, folding his hands as the car continued to drive itself. "I still can't wrap my head around the idea the world knows you exist and are paying you to advertise for them. It seems wrong somehow."

"This from the teen who bought me for four thousand dollars and complained about it when I drove off in the tunnel. "

"What tunnel?" he challenged.

"When we first met, Mikeala called me a 'piece of crap Camaro.' I threw you both out and trans scanned my current alt mode," he reminded.

"Oh, forgot about that," Sam blushed while chuckling.

"I treasure that as I do every minute of our time together Sam. Moreover, the money we make advertising goes to worthy causes. Each approved by Prime himself," Bumblebee said.

"Not this discussion again," Mikeala mumbled, sitting up and pulling at her tank top. Yawning, the young woman patted the dash in front of her and smiling as the engine purred louder and smoother.

"Oh come on Mickey," Sam gestured towards the city they were driving slowly through. "They react with horror, shock and surprise when as they fought on live TV then what? Prime as a soda pimp?"

"He did one commercial for soda pop!" Bumblebee's vocal sputtered.

"How many McGreasy's have we driven to for what? Dinobot chicken nuggets and energon fries?"

"We agreed," she stressed the 'we' in her sentence. "To do these events for charity work. Who else could afford the outrageous sums? Fast food places and soda drinks. Not charities that use their money to help people. Not TV shows who care only the stars they can promote with bad behavior to make more press. Not newspapers or magazines who only want photo shoots to sell ads to make money. Though my favorite was the magazine centerfold request to Optimus for him in his protoform only, which he refused once he understood what they were really asking," she giggled. The car bounced around them as he reacted with mirth too while waiting at the traffic light.

"And we arrive," Sam said upon seeing the throngs of kids holding little yellow and black action figures gathered in the parking lot of the restaurant on the corner. Parents stood nearby, holding paper bags of kids' meals and trying to look interested. "McGreasy Dinobot nuggets it is."

"Isn't that Trish? The reporter who covered the Mission City attack?" Mikeala suddenly pressed against the darkened window, peering at the red haired woman standing to the side of the drive through sign.

"Identity confirmed," Bumblebee said, opening both doors to let them out before transforming and greeting the cheering kids. "Hello earthlings!"

"Must he always say that?" the woman greeted them.

"Made you a star. Your coverage of them went worldwide. Still a popular clip on the internet," Mikeala said.

"Least its better than selling fast food to innocent kids turning them into lard balls of teenagers," she sneered.

"Easy ladies," Sam physically stepped between them. "How did you come to be there that day? I heard once you were heading to a different story when fate intervened with a flat tire."

"Not unless fate carries a ray blaster. There was a flash and we slid to a halt. All four of our tires were not flat; they were melted all the way to the axle. No, Mr. Ambassador it was not fate. Something or someone wanted us there to be there. For good or bad," she said.

_# 455 Do not ask for assistance then refuse it when it does not fit your ideas. Refuse only that which endangers, harms or threatens our kind. _

The marketing consultant stood on the wooden platform, undisturbed by its height on the wall or the large Transformers facing him. Optimus Prime, Ironhide and Ratchet in their bi pedal modes faced him directly. The large warehouse was modernized and quiet within the insulated walls as they began the meeting.

"My action figure is too hard to transform and breaks with the center twist. And my cannons have to be removed to make my alt mode," Ironhide said. His black arm cannons rolled once before stilling.

"At least you have a face," Ratchet grumbled. "Mine was left off in first production then the next version has a sticker! A flimsy little piece of sticky cellophane for my face!" His hand encircled his yellow green face armor.

"I thought a company made a head attachment," the man consulted his datapad rapidly.

"For the same price as the main figure and the head was never authorized through official channels," the medic corrected, shifting on his feet pads.

"Most of our toy replicas have not been authorized as well as creating names and characters that do not exist. How many versions do you need to make of us? Even the Decepticons! And you better have not asked their permission!" Ironhide added.

"Peace brothers," Optimus ordered. His hydraulics hissed as gears spun reaching out to touch his friends in reassurance before turning back towards the human.

"I will look into that after I leave here," the consultant promised.

"You requested this meeting for new proposals," the ancient Prime gently reminded. His armored hands rested on hip plates as he waited.

"Yes I did," the man smiled widely, displaying perfect white teeth. "Based on our research you need to improve your image. Think of it as minor alterations to body work or enhancement like leather covered steering wheel or adding a rear spoiler."

"Are you incapable of plain English?" Ratchet growled, the barest trace of red in his optics.

"Quite capable. Moreover, speaking of plain, research shows your flames are too vivid Optimus. A straight red and blue paint job would be easier on human eyes, transmitting over high def signals and we can issue a new version of your model. Call it a commemorative series figure. In addition, you should fill in your engraved armor glyphs. The religious ones specifically. We have had protests from several major groups that are uneasy with the concept."

"Primus! Are you slagging serious?" Ironhide cursed.

The man held his datapad and ignored the upset weapon's specialist. As long as Prime was there, he feared none of the others. "Case in point. No swearing or displays of temper. You're intimidating enough without seeming threatening."

"As in carrying cannons and fighting giant robot mechs intent on destroying your world to enslave your energy sources?" the black armored mech asked.

"We are grateful, really as a race for all you have done. It is just the polls. Every time you hit an all time high, an event happens that drops you back down. The twins, Skids and Mudflap need to be more professional. I have new paint job suggestions for them to use as the carrot to bait them to better behavior. Add dark waves to their alt modes. Sam and Mikeala need to get married. Their relationship is public knowledge. But they really need to be married."

"That decision is theirs alone," Optimus stated regally.

"Can't you maybe lean on them a little?"

"And you wanted us less intimidating," Ratchet commented while folding his armored arms with optics narrowing.

"And keep the genders clear. Men only alongside mechs for combat teams, especially in public appearances, and females including Mikeala with the femmes. I know she has been training with you as a medical assistance but are there no acceptable males?"

"Gender is irrelevant as we are two very different races and I am spark mated to Moonracer," he commented, leaning in closely. His multi faceted optics spun rapidly as flecks or red danced across the blazing blue depths.

"Mated is my next point. As in the next generation. What do you call them? Sparklers?"

"Sparklings," all three mechs said in unison.

"Kids are image makers. Instant cuddly goodness. Your femmes must have sparklings, at least two sparklings. One of each gender would be perfect or make them look like each gender. Oh! Have a naming contest!" he snapped his fingers and practically bounced up and down. "Great public image. Big bad robots with innocent little lives. Then heck, shuffle them off to boarding school or nannies or whatever your race uses. Pull them out when needed then store them away. But you must breed."

"Must breed?" Ratchet vented out, his optics snapping up to Optimus.

"Think of it as a guideline to continue your existence," the human smiled, full charm.

Optimus pretended to rub his chin plates with an armored hand. "Guideline. Marketing consultants need to be able to cover 300 hundred feet of floor space in ten seconds."

"300 hundred feet? Why that distance?" the human asked, pausing in typing out his notes.

"That is the distance between where you are standing," Ironhide began.

"And the nearest safe exit door," Ratchet finished as Prime's battle mask snapped into place. Both mechs backed away as the red energon swords slid out of subspace into his silver armored hands.

"What?" Why?" The human shifted nervously, glancing towards the stairs to the side. To his right, the blonde haired woman placed a restraining hand on the man sitting alongside her.

"But Maggie," he pointed.

"Relax Glenn," she whispered back. "Look at the color or Optimus' optics and the ends of the blades. They are straight and almost fuzzy. They react to his energy levels. Sharp points for battle and curved ends for anger. They have no tips meaning no serious danger."

"He looks serious to me," the computer expert whispered back as the swords were raised straight out on either side of the consultant.

"Run human. Or I will suggest names of nearby hospitals you must be transported to for your injuries," Optimus threatened. He held the swords ready and charged until the man began running down the stairs and across the floor and continued to disappear from view out the door but not from their sensors. "Must breed my spark. It is our choice and sparklings are our greatest joy, not a prop."

**STORY ARC**

**STARSCREAM HAS A FAN CLUB?**

Starscream's form shimmered, his normal alt mode of a silver Raptor fighting jet restored. Engines roaring to life, he taxied down the runway and into the air, ignoring the screaming air controller's commands.

Twenty minutes later he locked onto Megatron's broadcast signal. "Why would it be in the middle of a city? What madness is this?" he processed as he descended. Faint sounds of cheering humans reached sensitive alien audios over his own engine sounds. Hovering, his wings nearly shook with disbelief. "They are surrounded by humans and smiling! Megatron is waving at them and the cassettes? They are handing out photos of us!" Transforming, he landed roughly on his feet pads, startling the nearest humans back.

"Hey Screamer! Where you been!" Rumble called, signing his Cybertronian glyph across the jacket a human girl held out for him. The giant sized marker spun in his hand as he moved to the next fan.

"Late unacceptable. Schedule clear," Soundwave intoned. The stocky blue warrior held still as photos spit out of his side panel to land between Ravage's paws. The cassette warrior snarled as fans tried grabbing them away.

"What schedule?" he screeched.

"Fan club meetings. Part of our treaty with the Autobots," Rumble explained as if it should have been clear.

"Are you processor cracked? We're Decepticons not ...not...not," he stumbled over the words.

"MINE!" A girl at his feet pad screamed, throwing herself around his metal and holding tight. Various females began shrieking and grabbing him.

"I'm under attack!" He yelled, pointing a blaster when Megatron's roar nearly deafened them all.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" he commanded.

::Megatron! They are climbing on me:: Starscream sent frantically.

::Don't be a youngling. They are only fan girls. Your fan girls to be exact:: Megatron sent.

::My fans?:: Starscream's optics shuttered rapidly as the concept reached his central processor.

::Humans to satisfy our every need from donating their energy to wanting us. Why conquer them when they throw themselves at our feet pads?:: Megatron waved at the humans assembled around his legs as they nearly groveled.

Starscream glanced down at his. "Uhm hello?" then winced as they screamed, climbing higher. Unbalanced, he toppled over backwards, the females clawing and grabbing across his armor plating.

_To be continued..._


End file.
